The Evening... and I...

Hi folks!
The New Year eve is just a few paces away. The stroll of remembering the events in the year passing by is coming to an end. The celebration fever is gearing up.
It was an eventful year as always the span of a year has to be but still it was unique in its own sense.
One night of it lasted for sixty hours followed by the dawn of emptied minds.
I first of all salute the martyrs and wish you all a happy, prosperous and definitely a safe 2009!
I started my blog this year with a poem in my mother language and here I translate it for all of you.

The Evening… and I…

You engross my soul
My existence, whole of me
Like the tide
Which fades away caressing
Each and every molecule of sand on the shore…
You an ever wandering soul
In the fierce need of a host, a carrier
And Me
Immensely charged by my sensitivities
From the bottom of my heart
I become… the carrier
To satisfy your urge, the ghostly unquenched thirst of yours…
Flow of the sudden wind
Blows out the space balloon
And total darkness hovers around
Still I sense the silhouette
The clear thin line of the sky
And on it the trees swaying with a wayward madness
I start from my home, out in the courtyard
Reach the fence
Travel all along the fence, just along the fence
And return home
Trying to live in the dismal artificial light
Of my so called space
With a blank stare over every nook and corner of it
I reach the fence to have a desperate call from my space
And grab my space
To find magnetized by the fence
I become the carrier wholly possessed by you
To have these doubtless oscillations
I exhaust myself doing so
And I call for the day
To enjoy the good and the ugly dreams
Until a shock and getting awake
And I realize that
Your next conquer over me
Is just away
By a working day!

A Dot

Some intense sounds…

Down the slope of the facing mountain

Black dots making an unending queue resembling ants

The dusk falling

Spreading a dark cover all over…

The sounds come closer as intense calls from the bottom of the soul

Ba… ba…

And resonate from the surrounding fields…

Developing resonance gets filled all around…

From some shelters somewhere from the back

Comes the answer in thinner voices, more intense

Ba… ba…

Calls and replies intensify to merge with one another…

Black sheep drag the darkness from the mountain

To fill the space, making it dense

I see myself as a black dot sharing the same space

Deep Dark Ocean surrounds me

I tap my existence…

Emerge the stars above me

My head rotates to its fullest extent

Searching a glimpse of the moon…

मी जागा आहे…

मला आठवतं

तेव्हांपासून मी जागा आहे!

जेव्हा माझ्या ढुंगणावर

पदवीचा (खोटा) शिक्का मारून

त्यानी मला ढकलून दिलं

जगाच्या लाथा खायला

आणि रोजगाराच्या प्रतिक्षेत

मी जागायला लागलो…

त्यानंतर मला आठवतं

मी जागायला लागलो

तोंडावरचा रंग पुसून

मन रंगवत

डोकं धुंदवत

स्वप्नं रचत

धुंदीचा चढउतार

स्वप्नांचा विस्कोट

आणि भलतीच लचांडं!!

सुरक्षित कोषातून

एकदम असुरक्षित दलदलीत

जागण्याचा स्टॅमिना वाढला…

मला आठवतं

माझा जागण्याचा स्टॅमिना वाढला

आणि जगण्याचा कमी झाला

ग्लॅमरची वलंयं

वास्तवाचं जळजळीत चरक

यातून जात

जोडीदाराची वाट पहात

जागणं हेच जगणं बनलं…

मला आठवतं

जागणं हेच माझं जगणं बनलं

आणि मला जोडीदार मिळाला

काही शांत रात्रींचं मध्यंतर

मी जागणं विसरूनच गेलो!!...

मला आठवतं

मी जागणं विसरूनच गेलो

जणू त्याचं प्रायश्चित्तच मिळालं

जगण्याची कुतरओढ थांबेना

अस्तित्वाचं स्वतंत्र भूत मानगटीवरून उतरेचना

आणि मी जागायला लागलो

रात्रं वैऱ्याची असल्यासारखा

सततचा…

मला आठवतं

मी सततचा जागा आहे

विचारांच्या गर्तेत

नपुसंक विचारांचे डोंगरच्या डोंगर उपसत

विनाकारण

कारण अजून तसं काहीच होत नाही

माझ्या मनासारखं

खरोखरीची जाग मला कधी येणार?

पिकून जख्खड झाल्यावर?...

अजूनही

मी जागा आहे

विचारांच्या वावटळीतून

चिंतांच्या जंजाळातूनही

कधीतरी लक्ष्मीची हाक

मला ऐकू येईल

आणि मी तिला म्हणेन

मी जागा आहे…

मी जागा आहे

रोजची रात्रं

कोजागिरीचीच असल्यासारखा

कोजागिरीचं अक्षय्य व्रत घेतल्यासारखा…

चढणीवर

सरळ जाणारी पायवाट सोडून

तो डोंगराकडे चालायला लागतो कारण

डोंगरमाथ्यावर त्याला एक सफरचंद दिसतं…

शिखरावर चढून ते सहज हातात येईल, नाही?

असं म्हणून तो लक्ष एकाग्र करून चालत रहातो,

इकडे तिकडे न बघता

पण म्हणून फुलपाखरं त्याला सोडत नाहीत

मुद्दाम त्याच्या आजूबाजूला घोटाळत, त्याला मऊ स्पर्श करत

त्याच्याकडचा मध हळूच कधी काढून घेतात

त्याचं त्यालाच कळत नाही

पोटं भरली की गूल होतात

हा आपला वेड्यासारखा मध वाटत फिरतोय

गूल झालेल्या त्याना शोधत वेडापिसा होतोय

आणि वाट चुकतोय…

पुन्हा चाचपडत वाटेवर यायचं

पुन्हा लक्ष एकाग्र करायचं

तर कधी अर्ध्या चढणीवर

कधी माथ्यावर पोचल्यावर लक्षात येतं

ते मोठं सफरचंद दुसऱ्या डोंगरमाथ्यावर आहे!

पुन्हा हा सगळा डोंगर उतरून

नव्याने दुसरा डोंगर मुकाट्याने चढायला सुरवात…

सरळ जाणारी पायवाट पूर्वीच सोडून दिलेली

सफरचंद तर पाहिजे

आणि एवढा सगळा चढउतार करून

फक्त वाढत जाणारी शिदोरी पाठीवर…

पूर्वीच सोडून दिलेल्या

सरळ जाणाऱ्या पायवाटेवरून पुन्हा जायचं

म्हणजे ती मळलेली पायवाट आधी शोधायची

ती शोधल्यावर आता तिच्यावर चालायची सवय सुटलेली

कारण आता डोंगर चढायची सवय लागलेली…

सफरचंदाचा विचार रात्रंदिवस सतावत असतो

ते इव्हनं खाल्लेलं तसं असेल, फसवणारं

की धगधगणारा तेजोमय गोळा असेल, इतरांना उर्जा देणारा

की नुसताच रंगांचा खेळ असेल, अल्पायुषी…

एव्हाना पुढच्या डोंगरमाथ्याकडे जाणारे

काहीजण दिसायला लागतात

माथ्यावर जायला वाट तयार होत असते

गुंता झटकून ती वाट मळवत तोही चालायला लागतो

“फुलपाखरांनी कितीही रंगविभ्रम केले

तरी मध द्यायचा नाही

निदान तो आटलाय असं तरी भासवायचं

पण वाट चुकायची नाही”

असं तो मनाला बजावत असतो

सफरचंदाची आशा धरून चालत असतो

ते कसंही असलं किंवा नसलं तरी

कमीतकमी पुढे पुढे तरी जात असतो

पुढे जाणं इतकं सोप्पं नाहीये

हे ही त्याला पक्कं ठाऊक असतं… 

Making up for the theatre

It was a typical middle class home, a nuclear family staying in a single room of a chawl in a remote suburb, with a tapering Mangalore tiled leaking roof.
Like many others there wasn’t any background of art or theatre. Pursuing such forms was not at all considered normal.
This was not the era of 1940’s or so still I had to struggle a lot from the beginning like many of my colleagues.
I came across the phenomenon of the theatre accidentally. Each and every Marathi speaking family around me did have a strong affinity towards theatre since long. We had a rich heritage of the Sangeet Nataks usually having mythological themes. The knowledge of singing based on classical ragas was considered primary and the concept of acting out a role was very preliminary.
The first surprise of my life occurred when I did complete my graduation and had started off with a job. I had a longing since my childhood like many others to be a part of the theatre. Theatre was a big word for me. Stage at local Ganesh Utsav was something very fascinating to us. We used to see the local actors in our vicinity roaming here and there the whole year. Once in a year they used to make their mark on the local stage. It used to rain these times and we, the audience used to gather under the leaking tent with water rushing under our seats many a times. Still there was a great rush of boys competing for the seats closer to the stage. Before the volunteers even spread the mattress the boys used to rush for the front seats. While doing so the nuts used to slap the naïve one’s on the back of their heads. The naïve one never used to identify the culprit and would become a matter to laugh at. Sometimes there used to be fights among the nuts as the naïve victim used to turn up as a nut.
Then another quiet but more romantic nut used to throw a stone at the steps nearby and would roar ‘It’s a frog-frog!’ this would create a pandemonium among the girls sitting and chatting on the steps. The audience would roar in to laughter.
All these things would help the rather amateur actors preparing for the act. Amateur was again a big word for these actors. The crowd would slowly become impatient and the boys would start whistling fiercely with their fingers thrust in their mouths. This whistling competition would compel the local drama group for their opening announcement.
The plays would be the exact copies of the commercial plays running at the theatres during those days. Historical and comedy plays were the only types to be performed. The crowd would enjoy these plays. It would enjoy it in real sense or otherwise would find a gullible performer or performers and would start hooting and enjoy…
My school authorities would arrange festival of commercial plays every year for the school building fund. This was a bigger opportunity for the theatre lovers in this area of suburb as one has to travel at least for an hour then to watch these plays.
This festival would be open air and would take place in the winter. Hierarchy of ticket rates would be there and the sitting arrangement would start from cozy coaches and would follow by cozy wooden chairs with coloured cushions. The colours of the nailed cushions would again vary from reds to blues. My family would afford at the most two season tickets that to among last three rows. The wooden chairs here would be cushionless. There were mountains behind and the cool breeze coming from them would add a different dimension to watch the horror plays. As a school going boy I remember two plays distinctly. Both were written and directed by a popular professional theatre person who also performed the main role. One was about a vicious looking doctor, black, ugly with his teeth coming out. He visits a lady to take revenge for his unsuccessfully ended crush on her before her marriage and demands her son. He orders for a meal of her son’s meat. I remember the doctor’s entry in the lady’s house coinciding with the electricity failure. The lady lights a torch and the focus travels over the fully dark stage. Suddenly an ugly face is visible in the round light of the focus and the shrill of the lady is heard. The first act ends.
Another play was from the same set up and was about rebirths of almost all the characters. An old astrologer who calls himself a mathematician predicts about these rebirths of characters to one of the character. He further predicts a murder which actually took place in the previous birth of these characters and he insists that in this birth he can avoid this murder with the help of the characters who would help him in this process.
Other plays which I easily remember were comedies. One was a satire again with the theme of rebirth. The characters in this birth possess completely opposite behavioral patterns to their previous birth and their coming in and out of the characters creates hysteria on the stage.
The other comedy was about the old gentlemen living in a big multistoried chawl. A glamorous young lady comes as a new tenant in the chawl and becomes a centre of attraction among the married men. A crazy young lad makes a mischief by writing a love letter to two of the old gentlemen. He writes this letter by the name of the lady.
I remember two serious plays in those festivals. One was a historical play based on Karna- from Mahabharata and the other I remember was a rather realistic play based on a young girl suffering from cancer. Her journey through the whole process, a melodrama but carried superbly by the brilliant actors of those times. They turned this drama in to reality.
After many years when I got involved in the theatre actively I was able to trace the journey of this form and its distinctive features.
The drama has stints of surprising visuals which have a great impact on the audience; the horror, the suspense, the astrological realities and the reality of the term destiny (?), the comedy and the sorrows of the human life.
And I was able to trace them in my journey right from my childhood.
It also shows audience’s taste developing from the crude style of drama to the realistic one.

तो… आणि मी!

तो म्हणाला, “मरमरून काम करू नकोस,

कामचुकारपणा करायला शीक!

पगार भरपूर असला म्हणून

दिवाळी भेटी मागून घ्यायला लाजू नकोस!

वरच्याना मात्रं खूष ठेव

हाताची घडी घालून नेहमीच

जेव्हा ते पहात असतात केबिनच्या काचेमधून

तू सतत कामात गर्क असलेला त्याना दिसू दे!

इतरांनी न केलेलं काम तुझ्यावर पडलं

नाही म्हणू नकोसच-

करूही नकोस!”

मी ते ऐकलं नाही!

पुढे तो 'गुणवंत कामगार' झाला

मी मात्रं

फुकटचा आत्मसंमान बाळगणारा

एक फालतू कारकून ठरलो…

तो म्हणाला, “अरे या फिल्डमधे

अनोळखी माणसालासुद्धा

हात पसरून घट्ट आलिंगन द्यायचं असतं

त्याची पाठ फिरल्यावर प्रत्यक्ष/अप्रत्यक्ष

त्याला लाथ हाणायची असते आणि

पुढच्याला कवेत घ्यायचं असतं!”

मी विचित्र नजरेनं त्याच्याकडे पाहिलं

तो म्हणाला, “अरे पण-तू-इथे कसा???

तुझे आई-बाप, काका-मामा, आत्या-मावश्या

इथे कधीच नव्हत्या!”

मी चाचरत म्हटलं, “नव्हत्या… नव्हत्या…

पण… माझ्याकडे ठिणगी आहे…”

तो स्टेजवर हसतो तसा

छातीतला कफ खुळखुळवत हसला

म्हणाला, “तुला काय वाटलं?

तुझ्या ठिणगीकडे बघून

ते तुला शिडीच्या वरच्या पायरीवर ठेवतील?

अरे, तुझ्यासारख्यांना वाकवून शिडी करायलाच तर

ते कुठुन कुठून इथे गोळा झालेत!”

मी म्हटलं, “ मी वेळेवर येतो,

पुरेसा गंभीर आहे, अभ्यास करतो,

स्टेजचं पावित्र्यं-”

त्याला ठसकाच लागला

एक घोट घेऊन तो म्हणाला,

“अरे, स्टेजमागच्या अंधारात जे चालतं

ते बघून तो अंधारसुद्धा डोळे मिटून घेतो, माहितेय?

आणि स्टेजवर

वेडेचाळे केले की समोरचे खदखदून दाद देतात

आतडी पिळवटली, कुस्तीसारखा घाम गाळला की

अश्रूंचा महापूर वहातात

समोरच्यांनी सिलेक्टीव रहाणं

हा दखलपात्र गुन्हा आहे साहेब!!

जा तू! कुठल्यातरी इन्फ्लुएन्शियल माणसाला गाठ

आणि पटव!... काही कळतंय का??”

मला काहीच कळलं नाही

पुढं तो बडं प्रस्थं झाला

स्वहस्ते बक्षिसं वाटत राहिला

मी, एक, ठिणगी जपत रहाणारा

धडपडणाराच राहिलो

सर्वांगातल्या ठिणग्यांनी जेव्हा

मस्तकात जाळ पेटवला

आणि मला नाईलाजानं

दारोदार फिरावं लागलं

तेव्हा 'तो' मला कळायला लागला…

आता तो मला दुरून हसत असतो

आणि मी

माझ्या अस्मितेला न जमणारे

हिशोब करत असतो… 

दरिया

दोन जीवांचे मीलन होता

दरिया नीलम होता

कधी तो चमचम होता

कधी काळाशार होता

तिन्हीसांजेचे मळभ काल ते

सरता सरता सरत नसावे

लाटांवर कलत्या उन्हाचे

कवडसे आज किती खेळावे

 

असणे त्याचे माहित नसता

अवचित दोघां तेच कळावे

आजवर न भेटल्या फुलाने

जगणे अवघे गंधित व्हावे

 

शब्दांनी ओठांवर यावे

अंतर अंतरांतले मिटावे

रिती अंतरे शब्दही मुके

अधरांनी अधरा बिलगावे

 

झाले त्याचे सुतक न उरावे

न दंगून स्वप्नात रहावे

अथांग हा सागर साक्षी

घटकाभर स्वर्गात रमावे

 

दोन जीवांचे मीलन होता

दरिया नीरव होता

कधी तो उफाळत होता

कधी गूढगंभीर होता!

Nandan_Film Script_Some Scenes

SCENE1:
Late 70’s, an old stone built house’s courtyard in a semi urban area/EXT/INT/ Evening

Fade In

A dark square is seen from high top. As the dark square comes nearer, it becomes clear that it is a very old stone built construction-four walls. In its centre is a hexagonal stone built water reservoir, over which a back of a human head is bending.
All the walls are seen from inside. Roots and small trees resembling large inhuman hands are emerging out of the joints of stones.
The face becomes clear of the bending head in its reflection. He is a boy of 17-18 years, looking deeply in the water. Orange colored fishes are seen in the water, one fish has a big black colored spot on it. The boy is seen concentrating on that particular fish.
Suddenly the fishes start moving fast and ripples are seen on the water diffusing his face.
Dissolve………

SCENE 2: Old stonebuilt house’s room/INT/Day

Hands holding a twelve standard science book for reading are seen. The person holding the book is the same boy. Trying to concentrate in the book but is continuously getting disturbed by the conversation of a man and a widow sitting in a nearby room. The widow is around seventy and the man is in his forties. The man looks towards the boy and then lowering his voice restarts the conversation. The woman also looks towards the boy.

The man (very dry voice)
So Ma…Now we have finalized… We are getting married… I and
Kalpana…

The boy behind the book hears the man clearly and gets totally disturbed, his pupils are wavering.
Dissolve…

SCENE3: Old stone built house’s courtyard/INT/EXT/Evening

There are ripples on the water and the boy concentrates on them, his eyes become red and pupils waver. He is trying to control the movement of his pupils.
It is getting very dark and off screen the widow’s voice is heard.

Widow
Nandan s… Nandan ss…Nandu ss… O s Nandya ss…

The repetitive calls of the woman get in vain as they are unheard by the boy-Nandan. He is unmoved. At last he replies.
Nandan
Coming ss Grandma ss…

Fade out…

SCENE 4: The old stone built house, its courtyard/EXT/INT/Afternoon

Fade In

The shining old stone built house is seen as a background. Back figure of Nandan enters through the get holding a sac on his right arm and walks towards the house. He reaches the courtyard and stops. Looking towards the huge house he lingers. The figure of Nandan looks too small standing before the house. He looks at the French type window upstairs with old wooden doors and wooden planks nailed horizontally one by one on the lower half of it. The window is open and nobody is seen there in the window. Nandan looks towards the four wall structure surrounding the reservoir in the courtyard, decides and starts walking towards it. He enters the structure and sees above. The same type of window here-above the reservoir is seen closed. He stares in the water and his sac on his right arm gets dismounted from his arm. He holds it near his chest. His whole body crouches. He sits on a big stone on the bank of the reservoir looking deeply in the water. The water, the fishes, the dark green colored mossy bottom, everything seems coming nearer and nearer to him, as if piercing his eyes. His reflection in the water is getting diffused.
Dissolve…
NOTE:THIS FILM SCRIPT IS REGISTERED WITH FWA, ANDHERI,MUMBAI...

अवस्थांतर

आ वासलेल्या जमिनीवर
संतत धारा बरसत होत्या
पेरलेल्या दाण्यांवर
मोत्याचं पाणी चढत होतं

कोवळी उन्हं पूर्वेच्या कोपऱ्यातून
गुदगुल्या करून जागवत होती
उब देत होती
भविष्याची आठवण करून देत होती

आंगठा चोखत पहुडलेलं तान्हुलं
लपेटलेलं वस्त्र विस्कटत
आकाशावर नजर ठेऊन
गालातल्या गालात हसत होतं

धरतीच्या कवचातून फुटून
रसरशीत मोत्यांचे सर
अवकाशाकडे झेपावत होते
उष्णतेने झेलपाटत तरीही डोलत होते

डोक्यावर रणरणारी आग
मृगजळ निर्माण करत होती
जाळून काढत होती
झळाळी आणत होती

शिट्टी फुकणारा जोम
पडत धडपडत
क्षितीजावर नजर ठेऊन
पुढे पुढे जात होता

मोत्यांच्या राशी प्रसवून धरणी
अस्ताव्यस्त, क्लांत पडली होती
एका मोत्यातून हजार होऊन
शांत शीतल झाली होती

क्षणाच्या रंगीत पखरणीनंतर पश्चिमा
प्रकाश शोषून घेत होती
चित्र धूसर करत होती
काळा कुंचला फिरवत होती

आडवा हात कपाळावर धरून
हाशहुश करणारं बोळकं
डोळ्यातल्या डोळ्यातच नजर अडकून
चाचपडत होतं, जीर्ण शालीत थरथरत होतं…

Utsav_Short Film_Some Scenes

Scene 1
Fade in.
This is a first day of Ganpati festival. The street is in total chaos. Destitute selling flowers, leaves and various articles used for the rituals are the main vendors on the street.
Ganesh idols of various sizes and shapes are being carried by the individuals of various castes, creeds, religions and income strata to their respective houses.
The street is full of people and the idols in their hands or kept on their respective heads seem as extensions of their bodies.
Dissolve.

Scene 2
Constant pour of the waste flowers, leaves on the street has turned in to mud.
A woman carries the protagonist- a male to a muddy area and forces him to sit down by thrusting a torn, dirty gunny bag under him. The protagonist has lost his health by heavy drinking habits. He is drunk at this time too. Right in front of him on the muddy street is a torn, old some what blue colored plastic sheet. On this sheet are kept some scattered groups of the discolored Aster flowers for sale.
The protagonist is laughing and looking here and there for no reason. Alternate expressions of being in sense (serious) and off sense (laughing) are prominent on his face. The protagonist’s laughing face turns towards left end of the street.
Dissolve.

Scene 3
View outside the suburban railway station with a flyover just parallel to the station. Rush of the Ganesh idol carrying devotees is constantly pouring on the street from down under the flyover. The protagonist watches the rush of devotees running towards him and fear mounts on his face. He feels as if a group of warriors is attacking him. To avoid the attack his face forcibly turns to the other end.
Dissolve.

Scene 4
View of a Kabutarkhana, around it are placed platoons of armed police force. The police force is trying to control the Ganesh idol carrying devotee’s rush. In the process the devotees are being pushed back, pushed towards the footpath, on the fence of the Kabutarkhana. The devotees are colliding on each other. A minor massacred is about to take place.
Suddenly a flock of pigeons sitting and eating the grains scattered on the floor of kabutarkhana gets disturbed and flies up. One or two pigeons sit on a hanging banner. The words written are wishes for a new year.
The protagonist watches the banner and his face becomes much serious. It reminds him of some past event.
Dissolve.

Scene 5
Near a temple a procession is seen headed by a top class band. The music instruments are sparkling in the scorching sun. The royal look of the music players is attracting the audience. In the midst of the procession is a silver plated glittering open horse couch.
A man with thick glasses is standing prominently on the glittering open horse couch surrounded by few men holding him piously. The man with thick glasses bends. When he stands straight he is carrying his used trouser. He throws away his used trouser at the crowd in the procession. The crowd tries to grab it and cries as if a wicket has fallen on a cricket ground or a goal has been scored on a hockey or a football ground. The man is throwing away his used clothes and the crowd is desperate to grab them. Crowd’s degree of desperation is increasing.
The protagonist is in decent attire standing near a bank entrance gate. He is seeing the view for the first time and is confused concentrating on the view. He is wearing a bank uniform of a 4th class employee and carrying a broom in his hand. He gets disturbed by a giggle and starts looking nearby. Two young boys are giggling looking at the man throwing the clothes.

Boy 2
Hey! What is he doing?
Boy 1
Hey! You don’t know? He is taking Sanyas. He wants to get away from all worldly matters!
Boy2
Ha! Ha! Ha! Like this?

Both the boys bang their palms on each other and are about to exit. The protagonist is alternately looking at the procession and the boys. The procession moves ahead and protagonist turns to go back to his working place. As soon as he turns he sees a fat buddy standing in his way as an obstacle. The fat man is clasping his hands together and piously looking at the procession. The protagonist makes a way and crosses the fat man. After few paces protagonist turns towards the fat man. Now he is looking alternately at the procession and the fat man’s posterior frame.
The protagonist recollects various scenes in the working place where in the fat man had crossed his anger limits and had made a big show out of very ordinary matters.
Dissolve.

Scene 6:
The protagonist now sitting in the midst of the Ganpati festival rush is laughing looking at the temple. His mind is engrossed by images of the fat person in the Jain temple. The fat person is wearing white clothes and has a yellow colored thick line on his forehead. He with all his enthusiasm and happiness is greeting everybody around him in the temple. New Year wishes are being exchanged.
The images of the fat person getting unnecessarily angry by a non issue at the workplace and the images of his extra pious ness have caused collage of contradictions in the protagonist’s mind. It turns in to a chaos and the protagonist laughs sarcastically.
Dissolve.

Scene 7
Top view of the street suggests total turbulence of the rush. Ganpati idol bearing devotees and accompanies are coming from everywhere and are joining the street. They are quitting the street via narrow roads on both sides of the Kabutarkhana. The minor massacred is getting more intense now. The parked flashing police vans and the weapon carrying police force around here are making the matter worse.
The pattern made by the rush resembles a circular cyclonic pattern which is alarmingly and intensely developing.
Dissolve.

Scene 8
The protagonist is getting suffocated in the developing circular cyclonic pattern of rush around him.
The Ganapati idols carried by various devotees around are looking like sitting in a merry go round to him.
Slowly he hears a definite rhythm out of the Ganpati idol’s movements around him.
This rhythm resembles that of a perticular style of festive regional group dance to him.
The protagonist’s hands are tapping as if he is holding sticks in his hand and playing a drum in accordance with the sounding rhythm.
His face depicts the heavenly happiness of the rhythm and the music.
In his mind he is recollecting past events.
His hands are smoothly tapping on the rhythm in a slow motion.
Dissolve.

Tell Me!!!

Tell me, O Cop!
When you geared yourself
With the fugitive guards
What was on your mind?
Your own life ahead!
The religion of the terrorists!
The curses that were fired on you in the same day’s newspaper!

Tell me O Cops and Commandos and Civilians!
When you decided to head on the mission
What was on your mind?
You were the only dutiful and loyal citizens!
The scarce resources at your disposal!
Your parents and your off springs!

Tell me O Moshe!
What were you expecting on your second birthday?
Your day will start with your rabbi father and your mother caressing you!
Your deep sleep will separate you from your parents!
You were the only God’s child!

Tell me O Taj!
What was on your mind?
The monument after which you had been named
Raised from a tomb of a pure love
And you would arise as a tomb of hundreds of innocents
And of hatred!

Tell me O Nation!
What was on your mind?
One has to give so much for
The unity in the diversity!

Tell me O Qusab!
Were you ever deterred from the thought?
Of helping one’s beloved family
With mere a lakh and a half
By creating such mayhem!

And tell me O neighbour!
On what grounds you have demanded your own regime from us long back?
Do you fulfill as a responsible nation?
Do you respect your only citizens?-
Which have fled from us to you, creating mayhem here?
Do you respect only the so called proofs?-
With which you would never be satisfied with!

And tell me O rulers!
And the arrogant hermaphrodite forces you have created all over the world!
What do you think?
You will ever be successful
By starting you’re so called campaigns
By raising your selfish flags
On the ashes of the martyrs!

And… and…. finally O infinite intelligence!
What is there on your universal mind?
Do you act as a silent witness at such times?
Does there exist the phenomenon of justice?-
Or the innocence has to exit forever?
Tell me!!!

काही निरीक्षणे…

सर्वप्रथम स्वत:चं निरीक्षण.
२७ रात्र, २८, २९, ३० शून्यावस्थेत काढले.टिव्ही आणि वर्तमानपत्रं हे कधी नव्हे तितकावेळ डोळ्यासमोर राहिले.लिखित प्रतिक्रिया होऊच शकत नाही!
२९ ला पहाटे सीएसटीकडे जाताना, उतरल्यावर (रोज उतरत असूनही) कधी नव्हे ते स्थानक भिरभिरत्या नजरेने पहात रहातो.अतर्क्य अश्या एखाद्या हॉलीवुडपटाचा अनुभव.पण हा रंजक नक्कीच नाही!अजुनही सतत स्थानकात ते कसे शिरले असतील आणि कसे फिरले असतील, तांडव कसं घडवलं असेल याची चित्रफित मनात फिरतेय.प्रत्यक्ष अनुभवलेला नसूनही प्रचंड थरार जाणवतोय.भितीपेक्षाही विषण्णता मनाचा कब्जा करून राहिली आहे…
जीपीओकडच्या कमानीजवळ चोकीबाहेर पो.नि.शशांक शिंदे, हवालदार मुरली चौधरी यांचे फोटो लावलेला फळा आहे आणि बाजूला सहकाऱ्यांची श्रद्धांजली.मित्राला एरवी इथे टेचात उभे असलेले रूबाबदार शिंदे आठवतात.पुढे लगेच एक पोलिस व्हॅन पार्क केलेली.स्थानकाच्या बाहेर पडल्यावर जीपीओच्या मागच्या प्रवेशद्वाराजवळ आणखी एक व्हॅन, आत अंधार आणि विश्रांती घेणारे काही शिपाई, एकजण व्हॅनच्या फुटबोर्डवर पहारा देत बसलेला.मधला चौक पार करताना समोर लांब डीएन रोडच्या नाक्यावरच्या दगडी इमारतीसमोर अंधारात आणखी एक पोलिस व्हॅन.वळून कबुतरखान्याकडे येताना पोलिस बोलेरो दिसते.पहिल्या दिवशी आत चर्चा करत असलेले पोलिस.शहीद भगतसिंग मार्गाकडे सायकलवरून चाललेल्या इडलीवाल्याला हाक मारत आहेत.तो थांबत नाही…आज बोलेरो रिकामी, आत अंधार, शांत.मी बारकाईने बोलेरोकडे पहात पुढे होतो.मनात मेट्रोकडून अंधाधुंद फायर करत गेलेल्या बोलेरोची चित्रफित.
आजच्या वर्तमानपत्रात रिव्हॉल्व्हर बाळगून सीएसटी स्थानकाच्या सर्व प्रवेशद्वारात असलेल्या सगळ्या सुरक्षा कमानीतून जाऊनही पकडल्या न गेलेल्या नागरिकाची माहिती, फोटो आहे.शेवटी तो स्वत: पोलिसचौकीत गेला आणि असे कसे? (तांडवाच्या पार्श्वभूमीवरही?) असं विचारलं.पोलिसांकडे उत्तर नाही.नागरिक अजूनही सुरक्षित नाहीत!!!
पोलिसांबद्दल दया, सहानुभूती.लाकडी दस्त्यांच्या बाबा आदम काळातल्या बंदुका आणि केविलवाणे चेहेरे.एटीएस प्रमुख आणि इतर अधिकाऱ्यांच्या छात्यांवरही फलकणारी, फाटलेल्या, जीर्ण वस्त्राचा अनुभव करून देणारी ’बुलेटप्रूफ’ जाकीटे!त्यांची निधडी छाती आणि त्यांनी केलेला छातीचा कोट यावरच सगळी भिस्तं.याचं अपरिहार्य पर्यवसान बलिदानात.सेवेतले १४ अत्यंत उत्तम पोलिस गेले!किती उरले???
पोलिसांना, पोलिसांमधल्या कमांडोजनाही दिले गेलेल्या सुविधा (ड्युटिवरच्याच!) मार्कोस आणि सीएसजी कमांडोजकडे बघताना चांगल्याच उघड्या!
पोलिसांकडे दुर्लक्षं झालं बाबा!राज्यप्रमुखांची कबुली आणि त्यांचं लक्षं किंवा लक्ष्यं कुठे होतं याचं ताजला पहिलीच भेट देत असताना प्रचीती.केवळ राजीनामा देणं हे या पार्श्वभूमीवर बस्सं झालं???
सगळ्याच पोलिटिकल कावळ्यांनी काळे श्रध्दांजली फलक फलकावून निवडणुकांची बेगमी सुरू केली आहे महाराजा!!!एटीएस प्रमुखांना यांनीच वाट्टेल ती दुषणं दिली होती…
हे लिहीत असताना बाहेरच्या अंधारात मुलं गोळीबार-गोळीबार, अतिरेकी-अतिरेकी खेळताहेत!!! आणि… दूरदर्शनवरचा बोंबल्या “मुंबई कभी थमती नही!” चा लिलाव पुकारतोय! अरे ×××××! आम्ही मजबूर आहोत!पोटासाठी!!आता ही बोंबाबोंब थांबवा!!!...
माध्यमं एरवी आगाऊ पण त्यांच्या यावेळच्या प्रक्षेपणामुळे हा थरार स्वत:च्या डोळ्यांनी बघता आल्यासारखा बघता आला.अधुनमधून आगाऊपणा डोकावला पण आजच्या पिढीतल्या या पत्रकारांना, विशेषत: स्त्री पत्रकारांना अहोरात्र, दोन-दोन, तीन-तीन दिवस तिष्ठत उभं असलेलं, पोटावर पडून वर्णनं करत असलेलं बघितलं आणि त्यांच्यापुढच्या आव्हानांची कल्पना आली.
कमांडोज सारख्या देवदूतांनाही आपण काय देऊ शकलो?-परततानाही बीइएसटी बसचा खाचखळगी प्रवास?...
जागो इंडिया जागोचे एसेमेस येताहेत!तुम्हाला मतदानाचा हक्कं बजावायचा आहे असं वारंवार बजावताहेत!एक जागरूक नागरिक असं स्वत:च स्वत:ला म्हणवूनही हतबलता व्यापून उरली आहे!!!
जेव्हा जेव्हा हेमंत करकरेंची तयार होऊन मिशनवर जाणारी धीरगंभीर मूर्ती दिसतेय तेव्हा वारंवार भरून येतंय!
पुढे काय वाढून ठेवलंय?

We are the hostages!

We are the hostages
Hostages of our own will
We are the hostages
Hostages of the monarchy
We are the hostages
Hostages of the foreign rule
We are the hostages
Hostages of the non violence
We are the hostages
Hostages of the pseudo independence
We are the hostages
Hostages of the impotent democracy
We are the hostages
Hostages of the vote banks
We are the hostages
Hostages of the political puppets
We are the hostages
Hostages of the violence and just the violence
We are the hostages
Do we crave to be the same forever?